


you had to pick on me

by parkrstark



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Child Abuse, Flashbacks, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Parallels, Physical Abuse, Self-Hatred, Slurs, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Notes, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 07:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18139382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkrstark/pseuds/parkrstark
Summary: Tony isn't surprised when people confuse Peter for his son. He's almost like a carbon copy of him. Unfortunately, their stories are a little too alike for Tony's liking.Because he knows exactly what it feels like to grow up being bullied and God, he'd never wish it on anyone. Especially not Peter.





	you had to pick on me

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the song, You Had to Pick on Me by Matt Kennon....please listen to it before reading this. I've had it on repeat for hours while writing this....
> 
> The dates probably won't match up to MCU timeline...they're just there for reference.  
> Peter was born in 2002.  
> Tony was born in 1971.  
> (If I screwed up dates dont kill me ily)
> 
> Please read the tags and stay safe.
> 
> (Ignore mistakes...it's almost 2am and I didn't do a good read through. Sorry)

_2009_

Most kids waited everyday for the moment the recess bell rang. But Peter wasn’t like most kids. He hated recess because it was like a battlefield out here. Kids ran around screaming and yelling. They were just having fun; Peter wasn’t upset at them for that. He was barely able to sit through his classes without moving at least every few minutes.

He was mad at the kids that decided to have fun by picking on him. They thought it was a game to hunt him down and shove him around. It made them laugh. Peter never fought back. He was like half their size and would easily be killed if he even tried. So he just laid there until they left.

But today, he was going to get out safe. The minute the bell rang, he was gonna sneak out and make a run for his favorite spot.

And he did.

When the teachers opened the door to the field, most of the kids ran out in one big mob, all racing to the brand new playground. Peter, however, snuck along the side of the building to where the old playground was hidden in the back of the field. Ever since they got the new one over the summer, nobody ever used this one. Which was perfect for Peter.

He ran over to it, looking behind his every few seconds to make sure wasn’t being followed.

Once he reached it, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the handful of little plastic army men he brought in to school.

“Breaking news! A whole bunch of bad guys are in coming,” Peter said, pretending to be a news person he always saw on TV. “Queens needs Iron Man’s help!”

He finished setting up the last army man and then leaned down to pick up a handful of little rocks. Then he was running to the monkey bars that were connected to the platform he had set the men up on.

Using one hand to hold the rocks, he climbed the dirty bars with the other hand. “Iron Man is on his way!” Peter said, climbing until he was at the top. He carefully balancing on his knees at the top. “Here I am! I’ll save you!” Peter yelled, using his best Iron Man voice. He was working on getting it perfect. Uncle Ben said he was almost there.

He slowly picked a little rock from his hand and threw it down. He didn’t forget to make the sound of the Iron Man blaster when he did so. It bounced just behind the line of army men. He tried again, making the blaster sound and this time, he knocked one over.

“Yes!” He cheered, getting excited but then quickly grabbed the bar under him so he didn’t fall over. He had to be more careful.

Once he was sure he wasn’t going to fall, he straightened up and started throwing again. He wasn’t hitting a lot of them, but that was okay. It was fun. That’s what recess was for.

It was fun until he heard someone else just below him. The voice of the mean kid he had been trying to avoid.

“You’re aim sucks, loser! Learn from a champ!”

He turned his head just in time to see the boy throwing a red ball at him and it hit him square on his face. He felt his glasses crack at the impact, but that was the least of his worries a second later when he was falling face first off of the monkey bars.

He hit the ground below. Hard. He wanted to yell at the pain in his arm, but his chest was wheezing for air enough as it was. It felt like an asthma attack because he had hit the ground so hard. There was dirt in his mouth as his eyes welled with tears and he didn’t move.

The boy came running over, his feet kicking dirt in his face as he stopped. He leaned down,, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone it was me, baby. You fell off like a klutz. If you tell anyone I did it, you’re dead.”

Peter nodded his head, letting out a little whimper as tears fell down his face. His arm burned.

When the bully seemed satisfied, he turned around and ran, screaming, “Ms. Warren, Peter fell! He’s hurt and needs help!”

Peter rolled to his back slowly, whimpering as he pulled his arm close to his chest. He thought it was broken, but he was too afraid to look at it. So, he laid there and didn’t move until a teacher came rushing over with the nurse.

When they asked, he said, “I lost my balance and fell.”

 

Later that night, after a long day in the hospital, he was sitting in his bed drawing on his new red cast. He got red because now it looked like one of his arms had the Iron Man suit on. He was just using a blue marker to color in a circle for the arc reactor on his palm.

He was like Iron Man fixing his suit after a battle. That made him smile.

“Knock, knock, can I come in?”

Peter looked up from his hand and saw Uncle Ben standing in his doorway. Peter’s smile got bigger. “You can come in, Uncle Ben! Wanna see my Iron Man glove?”

Uncle Ben smiled and walked in. “I’d love to, Petey.” He took a seat next to him on the bed and even though Peter moved to make room for him, Uncle Ben scooped him up and dropped him in his lap.

Peter laughed as he held out his hand, palm up. “It’s so cool!”

“Sure is,” Uncle Ben said, but he sounded almost sad.

Peter turned to look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

Uncle Ben sighed, looking at Peter’s wall before turning back to Peter. “I know you told the teachers and the doctors and us that you fell...but you’re a little monkey. You climb everywhere without falling. Are you sure you just...fell at recess today?”

Peter chewed on his lip and answered him, “Yeah. I was playing Iron Man.”

“And you just fell?”

“Uh huh,” Peter answered, looking back down at his cast.

Uncle Ben sighed. “Okay…”

“I left my army men at the playground,” he said, hoping to change the subject so Uncle Ben didn’t catch him in a lie.

“We’ll get you new ones, buddy.”

Peter snuggled into his side. “Thank you.”

Uncle Ben laid down, moving Peter to the spot besides him. “Mind if I spend the night in here with you?”

Peter frowned. “What about Aunt May?”

“Are you kidding? She’s already sound asleep, hogging up all the blankets.”

Peter giggled and got comfortable. “Okay. Then stay. Please.”

Uncle Ben kissed the top of his bed. “Of course, Petey.”

They laid there cuddling up with one another and Peter wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell Uncle Ben about the kids that made fun of him every single day. He wanted to cry and ask Uncle Ben why didn’t they like him? What did he ever do?

But he couldn’t.

So he laid there next to Uncle Ben letting himself fall asleep feeling so safe.

 

_1978_

Tony laughed as he hurried down the steps three at a time. He had finally finished the model airplane he’d been working on for the past few days. Jarvis had given it to him on his birthday. He’d have to show him too when he came back the next morning.

But now, he was excited to show Dad. Mom said she loved it as she ruffled his hair. She told him to go up to his room and get ready for bed, but he had to show Dad.

“Dad!” He yelled, when he finally jumped off the last step, his feet hitting the floor of Dad’s lab.

His dad waved his hand at him as he continued to talk on the phone across the room. Tony shrugged his shoulders and rand over the an empty chair where he could wait for him to finish his phone call.

He was probably on the phone with Uncle Obadiah. They talked a lot. About boring business stuff.

Tony sat back on the seat, kicking his feet back and forth as he flew his toy airplane through the air. His airplane was supposed to be a plane gray one, but Mom let him use her nail polish to paint little Captain America shields on the side.

He jumped off the chair, running around the lab, making the sound of the plane engine. “Captain America ready to kick some Nazi butt!”

His dad turned around, covering the mouth part of his phone. “Anthony, I'm on the phone. Be quiet please.”

Tony shut his mouth immediately and continued flying the plane around the room. He made sure to stay quiet and away from Dad until he was off the phone. He went around and under all the tables around the workshop, making quiet sounds of an airplane engine and being extra careful not to knock into anything.

Until his dad shouted suddenly into the phone and Tony jumped, his head hitting the table he was crouched under. He winced, rubbing the top of his head. But his slight headache was nothing compared to the fear that sat in his stomach the moment he heard a glass shatter on the floor.

Tony’s breathing picked up as he went still. His dad was going to kill him. He didn’t move as he heard his dad growl into the phone. “I’ve gotta go-- yeah, I think the kid broke something.” There was a slam and then his father was yelling, “Anthony Edward Stark, get your ass here now.”

Tony didn’t move. He was safe here.

“Anthony, if I ask again, you’re going to regret it.”

Tony scrambled on his hands and knees to get to his dad. That was his furious voice. He ran over to stand in front of him, apologizing immediately, “I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to!”

He narrowed his eyes, looking over to the mess that was now on the floor. “You know you’re not supposed to be down here and now-- you broke it!”

Tony trembled as he looked up at his dad. “I d-didn’t mean to. You yelled and I jumped. It was an accident.”

“It always is.” Howard leaned forward and Tony couldn’t help his flinch.

His dad froze, angry burning in his eyes. “What? You think I’m gonna hit you?”

Tony just stared at him with wide eyes, holding the plane close to his chest. “I can clean it up.”

“Just get out!”

Before Tony could even get his feet to move, his dad was grabbing him by the arm and lifting him in the air. Tony kicked his legs weakly as he walked them over to the doorway. He shook him slightly as he said, “You stay out of here, hear me?”

Tony nodded his head, trying not to cry. His dad would make it worse if he saw him crying.

“Get to bed,” he said before throwing him down to the ground.

It wasn’t a very tall fall, but it was hard and far enough for Tony to crash to the ground with a grunt of pain. He tried to save his plane, but it flew from his hand crashing to the ground. Tony was too worried about the snap he felt in his arm to worry about his plane smashing to pieces.

“Whoops,” his father said. “It was an accident.”

Tony wasn’t sure if he was talking about breaking the plane or his arm.

He didn’t ask.

 

The next morning, Tony was sitting in his room, trying to fix the plane. It was hard to do with his arm in a cast.

There was a knock at the door and the only reason Tony didn’t feel the need to hide was because if it were his father, he wouldn’t have knocked. And his dad was too busy to come see him anyway.

“Young sir, it's me.”

Tony paused, remembering the story Dad told him to use. _Oh, right._ “You can come in, Jarvis!”

The door opened slowly and Jarvis stepped into his room.  “Good morning, young sir.”

Tony didn't turn around from his desk. “Hey, Jarvis!”

“What are you working on?” He asked coming up behind him. Tony couldn't help the flinch when Jarvis put a hand on his shoulder, even though he knew he'd never hurt him. Jarvis pulled his hand away.

“My model plane,” he said, quietly, hoping Jarvis wouldn't notice the pieces were snapped in ways they shouldn't be.

“It looks like it's coming along nicely. Maybe I'll--.” Jarvis stopped before he could finish his sentence. Tony turned around to see what was wrong. He was staring down at his arm with wide eyes.

Time for the story. Tony was good at pretending. “I fell down the steps when playing.”

Jarvis frowned. “Really? You're not one to just fall.”

“I stumbled. My fault,” Tony mumbled, looking down at his plane.

“Are you sure?” Jarvis lowered his voice.

Tony nodded his head and gave him a smile. He sighed. “Alright, if you’re sure, young sir.”

Tony’s shoulders sagged in relief after Jarvis believed him.

People couldn't know it was Dad's fault. It had to he his.

And it was anyway. He was the one misbehaving. As long as he acted better, this wouldn't happen again.

 

_2014_

“Kiddo, you’re gonna be late if you don’t get out of bed,” Ben said from his doorway.

Peter kept the blankets pulled up to his chin. He tried to let out a cough that sounded somewhat believable. “Not feeling well.”

Ben didn’t buy it. “Uh huh. I’d love to play this same game with my boss, Pete. But whether we like it or not, we gotta go.”

“But Uncle Ben, I’m sick!”

“And I’m the Pope,” he replied. “Now get a move on. You know May will make you go in those Iron Man PJs if you don’t hurry up.”

Peter felt his cheeks flush. He really didn’t need to give the kids at school another reason to torment him. “But Uncle Ben--.”

“Nope. Up and out. C’mon.”

Peter sighed and threw the blankets off of him and grabbed his glasses off the side table. Time to get ready for another day in hell.

 

Peter had time to grab a granola bar before rushing out. He got a hug from Ben and a kiss from May before he was hurrying down the stairs. He had less than 5 minutes before the bus would reach his stop, so he had to hurry.

Once outside, he slowed down. He hid behind a bush just a few feet from the corner. No one was at the stop yet. That meant the older boys that pushed him around every morning weren’t there.

He waited only another second, just to make sure that they weren’t coming before he left his hiding place. He glanced around him, making sure no one was in sight. Then he took a step to the bus stop-- only to be shoved from behind. The shove was rough and hurt. He went flying forward, falling to the ground.  He groaned in pain, reaching forward to grab his glasses. Thankfully, he got them back on his face before he was yanked and turned around to lay on back.

Staring down at him was the same kid that had been making his life hell since grade school. Peter stayed silent, hoping if he didn’t get a reaction today they’d just leave him alone.

“Why were you hiding, baby?” He teased. “Were you scared?”

His friends behind him laughed.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Peter asked. “I’m not bothering you.”

The bully on top of him scoffed. “You bother me by existing, nerd. Every time I see you, I feel the need to gauge my own eyes out.”

Peter squirmed underneath him, trying to ease the pain that was in his leg as the id put all his weight on it. “Then don’t look at me.”

The bully grabbed his jacket, shaking him against the concrete. “You’ve always got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, desperate to just get it to stop.

“We’ll see how sorry you are later.” He paused just as the bus pulled up at the corner. “But for now, I’ve got a bus to catch.” He stood up finally, but not before kicking Peter once in the ribs. “Stay down. Don’t get up until that bus is gone, nerd.”

Peter nodded his head, not moving any other way.

The bully laughed. “Good. Have fun walking.”

Then they were gone, laughing all the way to the corner and up the bus steps. Peter watched them, still not moving until he watched the school bus disappear around the next block. He stayed still an extra few minutes just in case. Then, he pushed himself up and looked around. There was no one around, but he was still terrified.

“You’re okay, Peter. Just...get to school. They’re gone. They can’t hurt you.” He took a steadying breath and started on his walk, but his eyes and ears remained alert, waiting for the next strike.

 

_1983_

Tony was dressed and ready for school before his alarm went off. He had his homework packed in his book-bag and his book-bag was waiting by his door.

He was watching his clock tick, waiting for it to be late enough to leave his room and head to school when there was a knock at his door. “Come in,” he called.

Jarvis smiled at him, but it faltered when he glanced down at him already dressed in his school uniform. “Your mother told me to come in and let you know that you have a snow day.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “What?” He glanced over to his window. “But there’s barely any snow.”

“The roads are too dangerous to drive on, young sir.”

The name only made Tony more upset. He wished Jarvis would just call him _Tony._ He knew his parents never would and Jarvis was the closest thing he had to a friend. “So, what? I gotta stay home today?”

Jarvis sighed, probably because a kid was supposed to be _excited_ when they got the day off from school. But kids didn’t have a dad like Howard Stark. “Yes, you’ll be staying home today.”

Tony grunted and turned around to kick the post of his bed. “Great! Three day weekend at home. Can’t wait.”

Jarvis was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, “Maybe we can do something together today. I can finish my tasks early and--.”

“No, J...get your stuff done and go home. You get to escape, Shouldn’t take that away from you.”

“Young sir,--.”

“I mean it. Just go-- I’ll be out soon for breakfast.”

“As you wish,” he said in a low voice before the door closed. Tony turned around and he was gone. Tony stared at the shut door as the tears fell down his cheeks.

 

After he was sure that the tears had stopped and his eyes weren’t red, he opened his door and took a step out of his room. He tiptoed down the hall, terrified. He hoped that the kitchen would be empty when he got there. Or at least that his dad wouldn’t be sitting at the table.

He stood in the end of the hall, peeking behind the wall and his heart dropped when he saw his father already sitting at the head of the table with his face in a newspaper.

Tony held his breath as he made his way over to the table, being as silent as possible. Tony caught Jarvis’ eyes and when he opened his mouth, Tony shook his head to stop him. Thankfully, he understood and didn’t say a greeting to Tony. He only sighed and placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. Tony started eating quickly, hoping that he’d finish his food before his dad even realized he was at the table.

His plans were ruined when his mother walked in, just as he was finishing the last bit of eggs. “Oh, good morning, Anthony!”

Tony felt his heart race as he watched the newspaper lower and his dad’s face was visible. His mouth went dry.

“Your mother said good morning to you, boy.”

Tony turned back to his mother and quickly told her, “Good morning, Mom.”

His dad nodded, turning back to his paper. He didn’t raise it back up, but his eyes continued to read. “What’re you doing here? Don’t you have school.”

“It’s a snow day, sir,” Tony answered, sitting up straight.

His dad frowned. “Snow day? Barely a dusting out there.” He chuckled, looking to his mother. “Told ya we should have sent him to that boarding school, Maria. They would have kept busy there.”

Tony knew that even though there was a smile on his face, his dad wasn’t joking.

What was worse? Spending almost 20 minutes at the table without his dad even knowing he was there or finally realizing he was there and wishing he wasn’t?

“Howard, that isn’t funny,” his mother said, although there wasn’t enough heat in her voice to actually get him to stop.

Just like every other time his mom called him out on a comment, he just shrugged his shoulders and went back to whatever he was doing. At least this time, he wasn’t too interested in Tony. Still he said, “Since you’re staying home today, might as well be useful and shovel the walk outside. I need my car by 4.”

“Yes, sir,” Tony mumbled, grateful to just get away from here.

His dad looked over his paper with raised eyebrows. “Well?  WHat are you waiting for?”

“Oh, right--.” That was his excusal. Tony pushed his chair out and hurried to his feet and back to his room to get dressed.

After he was dressed warm enough to go outside in the snow, he held his breath and got ready for the same silent walk through the house, doing his best not to catch his father’s attention. Not that he needed to. His dad was already pretty good at forgetting his existed.

 

_2016_

Peter was raised by two people that didn't really believe in “bad words”. May hated when someone made a comment about ladies not cursing and usually cursed even more just to be spiteful. Ben knew no other words whenever the Mets were on TV.

So, Peter didn't grow up with the fear of letting a few curses slip. He knew there was a time and place to say them.

He wasn't afraid of the “f-word”.

Not until freshman year of high school.

Ben and May had done the impossible and gotten him into Midtown-- the perfect school for him. Peter wasn't sure if they were tired of their nephew feeling bored in his classes or tired of seeing him come home covered in bruises.

They all thought going to a school where _everyone_ was a nerd would make Peter normal for once. There was no reason to doubt it.

Peter walked into that school on the first day with a smile on his face and for once, he wasn't scared. He didn't look both ways to make sure a bully wasn't about to tackle him. He didn't avoid open lockers so he wasn't shoved inside them. He didn't worry…

He was surrounded by people just like him here and he couldn't wait to make friends. He'd never had any of those before besides for the kids May forced him to hang out with in the apartment (thankfully, she stopped that after he turned 12).

He should have known though. He should have known his damn Parker luck would ruin it all.

When the kid in front of him gave the wrong answer and Peter not only corrected him without being asked, but also went up to him after class to offer him tutoring, he ruined it.

He had only offered because he thought it would be a fun way to make a friend. But then the boy was up in his face, glaring at him. “Get out of here, loser. Go bother someone else.”

The years and years of being being bullied came right back as Peter back away, hunching his shoulders.

The boy’s scowl turned into a smug smirk. “Don't make me say it again, _freak.”_

Two things happened in that moment: the boy found his new prey and Peter was labelled a freak.

It became a new game of the boy’s (who Peter would later know as ‘Flash’). He'd stalk Peter through the school day and corner him somewhere just to torment him.

Flash liked to see all the fun ways he could get Peter to cower back. He knew right away calling Peter a freak was enough to keep him down.

Flash rarely raided a hand to him. Unlike the old bullies, he preferred to use his words. Maybe because there was less of a chance to get caught. Maybe because getting called a freak as Peter walked by hurt a hell of a lot more than falling off any jungle gym.

One day, he was about to enter the cafeteria when Flash stood in front of him. He looked down on him with arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face. “Whaddya think you're doing here, penis?”

Peter couldn't look him in the eyes as he mumbled, “I'm eating lunch.”

“Listen, I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but everyone else was worried about you finding out…”

Peter frowned, looking up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I said I'd be the ones to break the news. We weren't sure how you'd take it. Being an orphan is hard enough, but then to find out that not only do your parents not want you but neither does the entire 6th period lunch. That's gotta sting.”

Peter felt his heart racing, about to beat from his chest. How did Flash know? That wasn't something he broadcasted to a kid he'd only known for two weeks. Especially one that liked to hurt him. “Who told you that?”

“I have my ways,” he replied, cocking his eyebrow.

“Well, whoever told you that must have forgotten to tell you that my parents didn't give me up-- they died.” Peter narrowed his eyes. Even his bullies in his old school never used the ‘orphan’ card against him.

“Regardless of how they did it, I'm sure they were glad to just get rid of you. Wonder when your aunt and uncle will get sick of you next.” He shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

Peter clenched his jaw, willing himself not to say a word. He knew if he tried to put a fight, he’d get his ass handed to him. And he really didn't want to start a fight in his new school already. “Shut up, Flash.”

“Penis, I really don't want to argue with you. I just came to let you know that you're going to have to find somewhere else to eat your lunch.”

Peter blinked. “What? I can't just _find somewhere else.”_

“Of course you can. Why should all of us suffer for you?” He paused and sighed. “Listen, we can put up with sharing a classroom with you as difficult as that is. But having to eat in the same room as you?” He pulled a face. “God, it's sickening. You're a freak and should be locked up somewhere. Not ruining everyone else's appetites.”

Peter faltered as he tried to summon the will to say anything. But he was afraid any words he'd say would break.

“So we agree then? This cafeteria is for normal people...not freaks.”

Flash was right; Peter wasn't normal. He was a freak. Peter hated that he could never get away from himself, why should he put these kids through it too?

So, he turned around and ran. Clutching his lunch close to his chest, he ran all the way to the library. However, when he went inside, he was stopped again.

“Excuse me, boy! You're not allowed in here.”

Peter turned to face the librarian with wide eyes. “What?”

“You can't be in here--.”

_Because you're a freak._

Peter ran before she could finish her sentence (and point out the ‘no food and drinks’ sign on the door).

He ran until he found the only spot he wouldn't be bothered in-- the bathroom. He shoved open the door and hurried to the first open stall.

He sat on the toilet, lifting his feet up so they wouldn't be seen underneath. He finally let the tears fall. With one hand, he held his lunch and with the other, he covered his mouth as he sobbed.

He stayed there, not eating a bite of his food, until the bell rang. It became his spot to hide in every lunch period. Even if it only spared him 40 minutes of being called a freak, at least it was something.

 

_1985_

Howard had called him every name in the book. Sometimes, he didn't have enough names to hurl at him when he was extremely disappointed in him.

It barely bothered Tony. It made him laugh sometimes actually. Especially when he got on his nerves enough to make his face go red and render him speechless.

He tried to put on a brave face like it didn't bother him that his dad told him at least 5 times a week about pathetic he was, but had never once said, “I love you.”

This time he caught him off guard. He'd never heard his father call him something with such disdain. Hearing the f-word spat from his father's mouth like that was sickening and it hurt more than any backhand he liked to throw.

It wasn't supposed to be spiteful to Howard. Sometimes Tony liked to piss him off on purpose, but this time he hadn't meant to get caught. He had chosen the weekend his parents were away so he wouldn’t get caught.

It was a Friday night and he invited his friend over so they could study. Studying was their cover...they both knew exactly why Tony brought them to his room and threw his backpack across the room.

He smiled and said, “Parents gone all weekend. Just us.”

Then he was shoved back to the bed and they were making out.

It was nice. It was fun. They slowed down after the first few minutes and it turned to slow, lazy kisses. Tony liked those the best, he decided.

Just like always, Howard had to ruin everything.

He threw open his door without knocking and walked right in. “Anthony, we're home early be--.”

Tony wasn't facing him, but he didn't need to be to know he was probably staring at them with horror filled eyes.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Tony pulled his lips away and turned around. “Dad, it's not--.”

“I want him out of this house.”

Tony felt his cheeks blush in humiliation. “Dad,--.”

“Anthony Edward Stark, I mean it. I want him out of this fucking house now.”

Behind him, his friend was already on his feet and grabbing his stuff. “Of course, sir. I'm sorry.”

Tony tried to reach for his hand. “Jack, wait--.”

“I gotta go, Tony. I'm sorry.” He didn't even look up at him before he was slipping out of the room.

Tony listened as Jack hurried down the hall. He waited until he heard the engine of his at start up outside before he turned to his dad with narrowed eyes. “Seriously?”

Howard stepped inside his room, slamming the door shut behind him. “Don't give me that attitude, boy. You were the one making out on the bed with another boy.” He made a face. “Absolutely disgusting.”

“I'm in my room. It's none of your business. Maybe if you had fucking knocked,” Tony snapped. He tried to control his temper around his dad usually, but this was the last straw. Jack would probably never talk to him again.

Howard slapped him across the face before Tony could realize just how he'd spoken to him. “Watch your mouth when you talk to me. You're just lucky I came to get you instead of your mother. Imagine if she'd seen that filth?”

“It wasn't filth--.”

“It was nothing but filth. And I never want to see it again.”

“You can't control who I want to date!” Tony yelled, shooting up to his feet. “And if I wanna make out with every boy in my school, then I will.” He smiled when he saw Howard’s eye twitch. “Who knows, maybe I'll even put out for a few.”

Howard took a step forward and Tony couldn't help his small flinch. “Don't you dare. No son of mine will be a slut-- especially with men. You're a Stark. Don't drag our name through your filth.”

“I'll do whatever the hell I please.”

Howard glared back at him for a moment before he said, “I don't care what your mom says, you're going to that boarding school.”

Tony scoffed. “Please do. A school with only guys? Make my dreams come true.”

Howard grabbed his wrist and squeezed it hard enough to make Tony wince. “Don't even try it. I doubt any of the boys in that school are a faggot like you.”

For the first time, Tony’s resolve faltered. _Faggot._ He could take the other comments his dad said to him, but that...there was something about hearing his father say the word like it left a bitter taste in his mouth that had Tony’s eyes burn.

Still, he spoke through the lump in his throat. “Fine. I don't care. Send me to the boarding school. Send me anywhere. As long as I'm far from you, I don't care.”

Something flashed in Howard’s eyes, but it was gone the next moment. He sniffed once, let go of Tony’s arm and straightened his suit jacket. He turned around and opened the door. “I'm going to tell your mother you'll be leaving. And when she asks why, I’ll tell her it's because you're a disgrace.”

“Like father, like son, huh?”

Howard hesitated for a second before he was walking out the door, slamming the door behind him.

Tony rushed forward to lock the door before he collapsed on his bed and the tears fell.

He stayed in there until Jarvis came to get him for dinner and even then, Tony made himself scarce around the house and never spoke to his father until the day he moved into his new school.

And when he cried that first night after his father dropped him off, he cried for his mom and Jarvis.

Never once for that man.

 

_2017_

Uncle Ben was dead and Peter couldn't feel a damn thing.

He hadn't since that night when he watched Ben bleed out in his arms and the light leave his eyes, taking Peter with it.

He was walking around without a purpose. The only feeling he had was guilt. And that one hurt so much he tried shoving it away as far as he could.

He just wanted to feel _something._ May had thrown herself into work and Peter barely saw her anymore. School wasn’t much better; Flash had gone silent since news broke out of Ben dying. He didn’t shove him into lockers and down steps. He didn’t call him names or make fun of him.

Any other moment of his life, Peter would have loved the peace. But now, he’d do anything to just... _feel._

So he waited for Ned to not be by his side (that was rare ever since Ben…) and he found Flash. He was in front of his locker right before last period. To say he wasn’t thinking straight when he came up behind him and shoved him forward would be an understatement.

Flash stumbled and whipped around to see who pushed him. His anger turned to confusion when he saw Peter. “What the hell, Parker?”

 _Parker._ He never called him by his real name-- first or last.

“Do you think I’m gonna break?” He asked, not backing away.

“Parker, what are you--?”

Peter scoffed, sounding a little crazy. “Oh, _now_ it’s Parker? What happened to Penis? Freak? Loser?”

Flash’s face blanched. “I don’t--.”

“No need to tell me. I already know. It’s because my uncle died, huh?” He knew his voice was getting louder as he continued and attracting the attention of surrounding students, but he couldn’t stop it. “Poor Peter Parker watched his uncle bleed to death from a gunshot wound, so we better pause the bullying!”

Flash’s eyes darted across the hallway before he spoke in a low voice, “Peter, c’mon man. I’m sorry. But don’t do this. Not here.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Why not? Think I’m gonna break? Think I’m gonna start crying?” He felt his lips turn up, but it didn’t feel like he was smiling. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I probably won’t. Haven’t cried since the night. Haven’t felt a damn thing, so you may have to work a little harder this time around.”

“Peter, I know you’re upset, but stop. Everyone is staring. Just-- I’ll take you to Ned. Just calm down.” He tried to grab Peter’s wrist, but Peter shoved his hand away.

“Why won’t you do anything?” Peter asked, frustrated. “Why won’t you just act normal? Make my life fucking hell! Call me a fucking freak! Go!”

Flash’s face turned hard as he leaned in closer. “Right now, Parker, I’m the only one that’s probably not doing that. So just back off.”

Peter shoved him again, and Flash stumbled back. He looked around them as Peter barely recognized the mumbles getting louder. They were drawing a crowd. “Peter, I’m trying to fucking help you, dammit. Just stop.”

Peter shoved him again and this time, Flash’s back hit the locker with a loud slam. “You can help me by doing something. Punch me, shove me, stick my head down a toilet-- do _something.”_

“I’m not going to--.”

Peter was sick of it. Any other day, Flash would have loved to do all three and more. He slammed Flash against the locker again and kept his hands on his shoulders, pinning him there. “I’m not a piece of glass! I’m not gonna just shatter-- just fucking-- why can’t you just hurt me?” He yelled, breathing raggedly.

Flash stayed silent, staring at him with wide eyes.

Once Peter’s breathing started to quiet down somewhat, he started to hear the familiar words.

“Told you so, dude...that Parker kid is a fucking freak.”

Except it didn’t come from Flash. Peter turned around, glancing over his shoulder and saw the crowd that had gathered around them. Some were trying to smother their laughter, some were staring at him in fear and even disgust, some had their phones out to get it all on film, some were whispering and pointing at him.

Peter finally felt the tears burning his eyes. He let go of Flash and took a step away. He stared down at his shaking hands and mumbled, “I--I’m sorry.” He didn’t stop to hear Flash’s response before he was shoving through the crowd and running out of the school.

What was even worse was getting home and his best friend wasn’t there to comfort him like he usually did. And he’d never be there again.

 

_1986_

“You can’t be surprised, Anthony. He was how old?” Howard said as they stood by the grave.

Tony shut his eyes, wishing his father would just _shut up._

“He was old. Old people pass. That’s life.”

 _How old are you?_ Tony wanted to ask, but he refrained himself. There was no need to start an argument with the man. Not today. Not here. Instead, he asked a question he’d been wondering since he got the call. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was raspy from barely using it.

“Tell you what?”

Tony scoffed, shaking his head. “That he was sick? That he _died?_ I didn’t even get to go to his funeral.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?”

Tony turned to glare at him. “A month after the burial.”

“You were in the middle of finals. I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Distract me?” Tony repeated incredulously. “I still had two weeks before they started-- there was no reason you couldn’t have called me down so I could have seen him one last time.”

“It was last minute, Anthony. Don't get so upset.” Howard huffed.

Tony couldn't believe the words out of his father's mouth. _“Last minute?_ He _died._ He was dying for _months_ and no one ever bothered to tell me.”

“He didn't want you to know. He thought it would only upset you.”

Tony whirled to face him completely. “Jarvis died. I’m upset either way, but I mean, seeing him before he did would have been better than not seeing him at all.”

“You were at school.”

“A stupid fucking school _you_ sent me to! And Jarvis died and I wasn’t even there his last months _because of you.”_ Tony could feel the tears burning his eyes, but he refused to let them fall in front of Howard.

Howard narrowed his eyes. “Lower your voice, Anthony.”

“Why? Am I causing a scene? You don’t want anyone else to hear in case it somehow damages your image?” Tony rolled his eyes.

“It’s not _my_ image I’m worried about.”

Tony didn’t bother to lower his voice at all. “Frankly, I don’t give a _shit_ about my image. My best friend is buried in the fucking ground and you want me to shut up and behave?”

“Anthony, please. Now is not the time.”

Tony threw his hands up in the air. “Then when is the time? You’re pretty bad at timing seeing as you waited weeks after his death to even tell me.”

“We’re not talking about this _here._ I’m sorry. I know you liked him. I know--.”

“I loved him. He was the only one always there for me and now _he’s gone.”_ By now the tears were falling down his cheeks. “I never even got to say goodbye.”

Howard stared at him for a moment before saying, “Oh, dry your tears at least until we’re at the car.” He glanced around, but Tony didn’t care. He let them fall. Howard looked back at him and huffed. “I doubt you’ll be crying like this for me when I go, huh?”

“Don’t make this about you,” Tony snapped.

He never did answer his question.

But really, that was enough.

 

_2019_

From the moment Happy called Tony, he was terrified.

_“It’s bad today, Tony. Real bad.”_

Tony knew that was code for the kids bothering Peter. Despite the kid begging Happy not to, he let Tony know of the bullying situation. And on the days when they gave Peter a hard time, Tony knew to distract him in the lab. But today was different.

_“I’ve never seen it this bad. He’s quiet. Angry.”_

But even when Peter walked into the lab, he wasn’t ready.

He came storming in and threw his backpack across the floor. It nearly missed DUM-E and he whirred in surprise. Peter didn’t even apologize.

That was how Tony knew it was _bad._

“Kid...you doing okay?” He asked hesitantly, unsure of how Peter would react to the question.

Peter finally looked up at him, with such a sarcastic grin on his face. Tony sucked in a quick breath. Not only was that look so misplaced on Peter’s face, but his lip was split and his eye was bruised. Happy didn’t mention that. “Oh, I’m just great, Mr. Stark.”

“Peter, your face--.”

“Oh, that?” He gestured to his face. “Just a few bruises. That’s what happens when you’re the football team’s punching bag.”

Tony felt his entire heart crush in on itself. “Pete…”

Peter kept that painfully fake smile on his face. “No. It’s fine. I’m used to it. I don’t expect anything different, you know?”

“If people are giving you trouble at school, you should let May know--.”

“Kids have been giving me trouble since the first grade.”

Tony faltered. He should have done something. “I didn’t know it was this bad…”

“Does it matter anymore? Not really. I’ve been bullied since I could walk. After a while it stops hurting so bad. You just take it-- you stop asking what the hell you ever did wrong. You stop thinking they’re wrong. Because they’re not. I’m a loser. I’m a freak. I know I am...why else would they dedicate their life to making mine hell if I wasn’t.”

Hearing Peter talk like that hurt him more than anything else. He had been there once...he knew those feelings and he _never_ wanted someone else to feel it too. Especially Peter. “Peter, you’re not a freak or a loser. You can believe what they say--.”

“Of course I can! Here, watch this,” he said, still smiling. He went over to a lab table where there was a mirror on the wall. He looked directly into it and the grin turned wider, more forced. “Hey, Penis. You know you’re a loser, right?”

Tony couldn’t move. He’d ever seen Peter like this...he wasn’t sure what to do.

“No one can put up with you in school. That’s why you’re the butt to every joke and you get locked in the girls locker room sometimes. I mean-- do you blame them for laughing? It’s hilarious how pathetic you are.”

Tony swallowed past the lump in his throat. He took a small step forward. “Pete, stop it. Don’t talk like that.”

Peter ignored him. “You’re an absolute freak. No wonder everyone hates you. Ned hates you, May hates you, Tony hates you, even I hate you.”

Tony felt his own tear fall as he watched Peter start to cry. “Peter, don’t say that. Please. We don’t hate you. God, we could never hate you.”

“You act like you don’t know why they bother you so much, when it’s obvious. They’re trying to do the world a favor and get you out of it.”

Tony’s heart skipped three beats hearing that. He felt his chest rising and falling rapidly in a panic. “No...Peter, Jesus. No--.”

“Yes,” Peter said, tears streaming down his face. “If I wasn’t such a fucking coward-- if I wasn’t so fucking weak.”

Tony’s body was autopilot, walking forward, shoving past things in his way until he was at Peter’s side. “No, you’re not. Peter isn’t weak. Peter, you’re the strongest fucking person I know. Just for dealing with this shit every day...and still being you? You wake up and fight the same shit that beats you down every damn day. That’s not only strong but fucking brave...and I thank every fucking god in creation you keep fighting. Because this world isn’t the same without you...mine is _nothing_ without you.”

Peter didn’t say a word as he continued to stare in the mirror and cry, so Tony continued.

“And any asshole that tries to make you think otherwise...well, they’re just fucked. They are the real losers. They have such a shitty life that they bring down others to make themselves feel better. That’s disgusting. And I hate that they do this shit to you. But, don’t let them win. _Please.”_

Peter stood there just staring for a long moment before he finally broke. That ugly smirk was wiped off his face in a second, his tears turned into sobs and his legs gave up on him.

But Tony was there to catch him when he fell.

Peter clung to him tighter than he ever had before. He cried so hard he started choking on the sobs. Through his own tears, Tony rubbed Peter’s back soothingly as he shushed him softly. “It’s okay, Pete. I’m here. Just let it all out.”

Peter did. He gripped Tony’s shirt so tight, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to let go. He hid his face in his shoulder, soaking his shirt with his tears and snot. Tony didn’t push him away. He held him closer.

The sobbing didn’t lesson, but Peter caught his breath enough to speak. “I--I just don’t understand why they have to be so-- mean.”

Tony blinked his eyes furiously to try and clear his own tears. “I don’t know why they are, buddy. I wish I did. I wish I could stop it.”

“It’s exhausting. I’m so tired of being afraid of going to school and wondering when the next strike is gonna hit.” He let out a sob as he said, “It hurts. It hurts so much and they never stop. Why can’t they just stop?”

Tony ran a hand through his hair, holding him close. He shut his own eyes as he shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“They never even gave me the chance to be their friend. And-- and I get it...not everyone has to like everyone, but if they didn’t like me why didn’t they just let me be?” He asked, his sobs taking over once again.

Tony shook his head, unable to say anything through his own crying. But not that he could offer anything useful. The great Tony Stark, supposedly one of the most brilliant men alive had no answers for any of Peter’s questions.

“It’s not hard to just...leave me be. There are so many other people to hang out with. Why waste so much time making my life hell? What’s their goal? What do they gain from this? I just don’t get it.”

Tony thought back to when he was younger and had asked himself those same questions with Howard. 30 years later and he still didn’t have the answers. He never would.

“What’s the point of even-- nevermind.”

That got something from Tony. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry-- ignore me.”

“No. I want to know how you’re feeling, Peter. This is important,” Tony insisted.

“What’s the point of even trying anymore?”

Tony stared down at him, thinking his next words through. Eventually, he decided he wanted to let Peter know he wasn’t the only one that asked that question. When he went to move, Peter only clung tighter. Tony realized this was going to be a little harder than he thought. “Okay, buddy, I’m not going anywhere.” He turned to where DUM-E was behind them, watching in worry. “Can you get the book from top drawer, DUM-E? Without setting anything on fire please?”

DUM-E beeped an affirmative and then wheeled over to his desk. Tony couldn’t see him, but he heard a few bumps and crashes, that made Tony wince each time, before he finally rolled back over with an old notebook in his grasp.

Tony took it carefully and thanked DUM-E before opening it up. It looked like just another one of his lab books with notes and ideas scrawled throughout the pages, but in the very back was a folded up piece of paper. He held it in his hand for a second before handing it to Peter. This was the first time he’d let anyone else read it.

Peter sniffled as he asked, “What’s this?”

“Just...read it. You’ll see.”

Peter did so, going quiet as he began to read it. Tony suddenly felt self-conscious. “I wrote it years ago, so go easy on me.”

Peter read it silently for a few moments and Tony knew he was finished when his hands started to shake and he turned to look at Tony with wide eyes. “M-Mr. Stark?” He sounded scared.

“I wrote that the first month I was in college. Thought it was the only solution. I’d just lost the only person that really understood me and figured me being away at school, at least my mom wouldn’t have to be the one to find me, yeah?”

Peter was silent as he continued to stare up at him with terrified eyes. Not that he expected a different reaction after letting him read his suicide note.

“You’ve got your bullies and I had mine. Howard Stark. I don’t care what anyone says...he was a cold bastard and a horrible father.”

When Peter spoke finally, his voice was almost silent, “Did he hurt you?”

Tony had to swallow past the lump in his throat to answer, “Yeah, kid...he hurt me. Physically and emotionally-- it’s all abuse. I don’t give a damn what people say. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me? That’s the biggest load of bullshit.”

Peter leaned into closer. “The words hurt worse.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, kid. They do.”

They sat in somewhat silence while Tony waited for Peter to say something else and Peter presumably thought of what he wanted to say.

Finally, he asked, “Why didn’t you?”

Tony laughed softly because he could go into a long explanation on how he realized the easy way out wasn’t the way to do it. But one word was enough to sum it all up. “Rhodey.”

“Rhodey?”

“Yeah...from the moment I moved into that dorm room with him, he took me in under his wing. I tried not to get attached because of what I had planned, but look how that ended up.”

“Rhodey saved your life then?”

Tony smiled. “Yeah. He did. Sure gave me another reason to keep fighting.” He paused, looking down at the note in Peter’s hand. “And whenever it gets bad and I wanna pull that note out, I think of him. I think of him and now every other person that’s come after. Happy, Pepper, you and May...I just remember the people in my life that I know would never hurt me.” He ruffled Peter’s hair. “They make it all worth it.”

“Ned, May-- can I borrow yours?”

“Huh?”

“Can your people be my people too?”

“Oh. Of course, kid.”

Peter nodded and said, “Ned, May, Happy, Rhodey, Pepper...you.” He grabbed onto Tony’s wrist. “You guys are my Rhodeys.”

“Never forget that, Peter. We’re gonna be here for you now and to the end of time. No matter what.”

Peter finally smiled up at him. “Me too, Mr. Stark. And if me continuing to fight is enough to keep you fighting, then they’re gonna have to take me kicking and screaming because I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“It’s my job to protect you, kiddo.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. “Someone’s gotta help Rhodey look out for you. And I think I’m perfect for the job.”

“Yeah, Pete. You really are.”

 

 

 

> _it's time to make a stand,_ _take some responsibility._
> 
> _cus it's gotten outta hand; t_ _here should never have to be_
> 
> _another child's headstone_   _that might as well read:_
> 
> _"you had to pick on me"_

**Author's Note:**

> Bullying fucking sucks. I could write a long winded author's note about how disgusting it is, but I just wrote 9,000 words on it...so I'll leave saying this:
> 
> Your words can do permanent damage to someone. I don't care if you don't like the person, you don't agree with them, you're only joking, you're behind a computer screen...I don't care what excuse you have. There is never a good reason to say mean and hurtful words to someone.  
> You never know how it may affect them.  
> So, if you don't like someon, then just leave them alone. It takes nothing to just leave them be....please. 
> 
> This world needs to start spreading more smiles and less hate.


End file.
